Outliers
by Floor-Ninja
Summary: When it seems like Deckerd is getting nowhere with the newest member of the Brave Police, he receives some advice from a familiar face.


**Author:** Ninja  
**Description:** _When it seems like Deckerd is getting nowhere with the newest member of the Brave Police, he receives some wise advice from a familiar face._  
**Author's Note:** The lead-in to this story can be found midway through _Drive_, but it's not necessary reading.

* * *

Deckerd had never used chopsticks before.

He had never had reason to, as – until now – he had never considered consuming food to be a possibility. He was a machine, at least as far as his individual parts were concerned. There was no requirement for nutrition or sustenance of any kind other than the fuel he took in to keep his systems running. Even that was a process far removed from the sort of thing humans did when they consumed organic fuel; it never went near his mouth, for one thing. His tank cap was located in his abdomen.

Now here he was, sitting on his haunches under the stalwart foundation of an old highway overpass, with what could only be food – real, actual _food _– cradled in his hands. Not only that, but the person next to him expected him to eat it like humans did, as though he should try this sort of thing at least once in his life.

Deckerd re-arranged the oversized chopsticks between his jointed fingers and made a thoughtful sound. He then pressed his lips together. His A.I. whirred away inside his processor, the circuits alight with a hundred reasons as to why this could be a bad idea and how he might possibly get out of doing it.

Shadowmaru smiled. "Stalling, sir?"

The shapeshifter sat cross-legged on the ground beside him, the other mech's powerful, multi-hinged limbs tucked together in the picture of gentle deference. Shadowmaru's bemused expression spoke otherwise, however. The ninja's optics glowed a faint green while he watched Deckerd struggle under the weight of his own inhibitions.

"Are you certain this won't lead to damage?" Deckerd insisted when he looked down at the large bowl in his lap.

"A little rice never hurt anyone," Shadowmaru assured. Deckerd made a mental note to look through all the old case files back at headquarters just to see if this was true.

The patrol car teased a lump of the aforementioned rice with the chopsticks he held. "Why katsudon?" he wondered aloud. It was a fairly popular dish, and Deckerd could – in a roundabout, intellectual way – see the appeal. He was only curious as to why he'd been given it and not the kitsune soba Shadowmaru was enjoying.

"You struck me as the type," the violet mech answered. A series of noodles disappeared into Shadowmaru's mouth with one fluid motion when he stopped to eat. It was quite possibly one of the most bizarre things Deckerd had ever seen one of his fellow Braves do. He found himself staring.

If Shadowmaru noticed he made no mention of it. Instead he continued speaking, his own chopsticks lowering so he could fish out a chunk of deep-fried tofu, "It also seemed fitting. We _are _here on the eve of what may be a victory over this little problem you've acquired."

Deckerd vented a sigh. "I would be happy with a step forward."

That's right. They were here to talk about The Problem. It wasn't really Deckerd's Problem, it was the problem of everyone, but Deckerd, being the leader, assumed responsibility for it. It was a Problem that had a special way of swaggering into rooms and riling people up and never seeming to show remorse for any of this. It was a Problem that Deckerd had hoped had turned over a new leaf following the events leading up to its recruitment, but it seemed that wasn't entirely the case. The Problem was still a problem. It still didn't seem to want anything to do with Deckerd or the team he led, at least on a personal level. But the Problem insisted on staying. It just... _insisted_.

"Even a small step forward with Gunmax should be considered a victory," Shadowmaru said.

The Problem had a name.

Deckerd shoved a bundle of rice into his mouth without thinking and let the texture of it simmer against his internal sensors as he focused on the outline of the cityscape before them. "I don't understand him," he said and rested his chopsticks on the katsudon. He waited for Shadowmaru to say something but the ninja was silently slurping more soba noodles in the corner of Deckerd's visual feed. The silence felt oppressive. It prickled at Deckerd's already thinned patience and then, just like that, all his reservations deflated with an almost audible mental _pop_.

"He's made steps forward with Yuuta," Deckerd continued, his vocalizer ringed with frustrated static. "But it's the only thing he's bothered to correct. His attitude is still a problem and he doesn't seem to want to be friends with anyone."

"He does his work," Shadowmaru interjected mildly.

"He turns in all his paperwork and he does all his patrols. But that's just the thing, Shadowmaru! He's always looking for an excuse to get away from us. Why does he insist on staying when he doesn't even like it here?"

"Ah, Master Dekkado. Who is to say he doesn't like it here?"

Deckerd began to work on his cutlet. "What makes you think he does?" he retaliated. The question was laced with a sigh. "Because it doesn't seem that way to me."

"You said yourself that he's made strides with Mini-Boss. It's obvious that he enjoys the company."

"Of course he does. It's Yuuta." Deckerd could not conceive of anyone not liking Yuuta. It was impossible. "I don't feel right praising it, either," he continued. "Gunmax owes Yuuta after the danger he put him in at the Hourglass."

Anger bubbled deep within Deckerd at the reminder. Yuuta had been taken from him. Yuuta could have been hurt. He could have _died_. Gunmax was fortunate none of that had happened; there would have been no stopping Deckerd's fury, a fact Deckerd was not altogether proud of. He still remembered attacking Seia Onoue and her men when Yuuta had been swallowed by Gawan. He was glad McCrane had intervened.

Gunmax wasn't human, though, and could take more than a punch.

"Mini-Boss likes him."

_That_... Deckerd could not readily explain. Or deny, for that matter. He grunted to himself.

"Mini-Boss sees good in him," Shadowmaru continued when Deckerd aggressively picked at his cutlet in lieu of replying.

"So do _I_," Deckerd said. "And so does McCrane. I think everyone can see his potential and that's what makes this so frustrating."

Shadowmaru _hmm_'d and twirled some more of his soba noodles. Deckerd frowned to himself and worked the pistons of his jaw in thought.

"What do you think of him?" he asked the ninja.

Shadowmaru glanced over at the blue armored mech. The lens of his optics flickered in what may have been surprise. "Why ask me?" It wasn't often that the shapeshifter was asked for his opinion on things.

"Out of everyone on the team, you're the one Gunmax has spent the most time with."

"We share a desk. It's to be expected."

"Maybe. But you seem to get along well, too," Deckerd argued. "Isn't that right?"

Shadowmaru hesitated. "Yes," he admitted after a moment. "We do get along well enough."

"How do you do it?"

The winged Brave's expression slipped into something more serious as he raised his gaze to the skyline. The light behind the lenses of his optics shifted when he studied the slow descent of the sun. "You make it sound like it's a secret." There was a small rumbling sound, like the quiet shift of an engine. Deckerd realized Shadowmaru had uttered a soft chuckle from somewhere in his chest.

It was an unexpected sound and Deckerd felt the tightness of his face loosened by a tiny smile. "I would like to be in on it," he said, and was thankful to feel some of the tension he'd been cultivating begin to bleed out.

Shadowmaru twirled the chopsticks between his digits before catching them back in their proper position. "There is no secret. I'm myself." He appeared to think on this. That obviously wasn't going to be very useful advice for Deckerd, and so the patrol car waited for some elaboration. "Maybe Mr. Motorcycle realized that his attitude doesn't phase me and so he dropped the charade." The smooth alloy of the ninja's brow, already cast deep in the same shadow that ringed the edge of his optics, raised when Shadowmaru cast Deckerd another bemused smile. "Maybe he came to terms with the fact that the two of us now share a workspace and is seeking a truce so that I won't swap all the pencils in his pencil holder with ones Drillboy has chewed on."

Deckerd felt his smile brighten a fraction more. It was just the sort of thing the _mysterious_, professional ninja would do. "That would be cruel."

"Sure. And you think he deserves it, don't you?"

"I don't know. I just want things to run smoothly," Deckerd answered. "I want people to be happy. But with Gunmax acting the way he does that's impossible." His voice steadily gained volume when he continued, "Every day he's upset someone else. A team can't function like this!"

"He upsets you."

"Yes!" Before he knew it Deckerd had stuck another bundle of rice in his mouth and was chewing on it in the moodiest manner he could muster. "He doesn't respect me or the Brave Police. This is about more than him doing his job."

"The Brave Police is more than a job to you."

The sound of vehicles driving along the overpass overhead faded to the background. Deckerd found himself looking at Shadowmaru, the bright amber of his optics a stark contrast to the web of parched and graffiti-covered concrete around them.

"Of course it is."

Shadowmaru met his superior's gaze with unusual solemnness. "Gunmax doesn't see it that way."

_What?_

"What?" It was the only thing Deckerd could think of to say.

The ninja detective set his chopsticks on the edge of his bowl. There they balanced, the traditional utensils looking even smaller and more fragile in contrast to the mech who'd been using them. "He had a life before the Brave Police," the shapeshifter continued in firm but gentle tones. "Have you ever thought about that?"

"He was with the Highway Patrol. The Commissioner made that clear."

"But have you ever _thought _about it?"

Deckerd opened his mouth to insist that yes, yes he had, but stopped himself. His lips clenched shut. He then..._thought _about it.

_A life before the Brave Police?_

Deckerd realized he had no idea what that was like.

The Brave Police was where Deckerd's world began. It was synonymous with Yuuta – it was Yuuta, and everything Yuuta represented. It was everything to Deckerd, and so was everyone who was a part of it. He had been a member of the Brave Police before there had ever been a Decker Room; before there had ever been anything more than him, Yuuta, and Yuuta's garage. It had always been there. It had... always been a part of him; his very _identity_.

Trying to imagine a life without the Brave Police filled Deckerd with a shaky, uncertain feeling. It was like trying to live without any foundation under your feet.

_He had a life before the Brave Police._

Shadowmaru must have been watching the way Deckerd's expression shifted with every turn of his thoughts. The violet mech waited for Deckerd to digest the implications before he spoke again. "Gunmax knew life before he knew any of this. He had time to form bonds, both good and bad, and saw time for them to strengthen or grow weak. He might have solved cases and experienced happiness, all of which has since become a memory."

_Memories?_

Deckerd searched Shadowmaru's face. "What do you know about him?"

Shadowmaru shook his head. "Nothing. I have the capacity to look into his files but not the right. The Commissioner would have told us if there was something relevant for us to know. If there _is _a reason that Gunmax acts the way he does, then it must be something relevant only to Gunmax, which makes it personal."

Deckerd knew Shadowmaru well enough to know that the information specialist played loose with the rules when it suited him, but Shadowmaru also had a powerful sense of justice and would never pry into someone's personal matters without good reason. Shadowmaru, despite the friendly and sociable exterior, was a private mech at heart, something Deckerd respected. Unfortunately, this meant Deckerd was no closer to solving this case than he was when he'd first agreed to come out here.

The patrol car reigned in a sigh and decided to switch gears. "So you don't know why, either."

"No, I don't."

"Maybe Gunmax acts this way because that is who he is and there isn't a reason for it." Deckerd cringed at the possibility even as the words left his mouth. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to live with this kind of flagrant disrespect and the cold shoulder treatment for the rest of his life. Maybe the others could find ways around it or get Gunmax to warm up to them, but Deckerd didn't have that kind of finesse, nor did he have the time.

"Maybe so."

"But..." Deckerd allowed a sliver of hope to light his optics. "You seemed convinced there was more to it."

Shadowmaru's gaze shifted to the shadows that painted the underside of the overpass. "I'd like to believe there's a reason for everything," he answered, his voice quiet.

"Why do you think that?"

"Gunmax isn't the only one who led another life once."

Deckerd was just about to ask Who? when he realized he was looking at that someone.

It was like a veil had been lifted.

Shadowmaru returned the look with a wry smile, though his optics were low-lit and serious. "Would you like a word of advice?"

Deckerd was replaying their conversation with renewed understanding but stopped to nod. "I'll take anything I can get."

"In my experience, people who push others away are trying to protect someone."

Deckerd's grip on his chopsticks loosened. "You think Gunmax is protecting someone?"

"I can't say for sure. It could be someone else, it could be himself, it could be any number of things." Shadowmaru stretched the fingers of his hands and watched the easy slip of gears as he flexed the digits. "In my case, it was Kagerou." The smile that flickered across his lips was bitter. "For all I know that may not be the case with Gunmax at all, but something tells me otherwise."

"I had hoped..." Deckerd paused and experienced a dull pang from somewhere deep inside his A.I.. _Wistfulness? _"The way Gunmax acted right after Yuuta prevented him from being melted in the Hourglass. It was like I was seeing a different side of him." Shadowmaru had been standing there beside him when it had happened. He was certain the other mech knew what he was referring to.

Shadowmaru inclined his head. "I've also gotten that impression, brief as it may be at times. That's what fuels my suspicions."

"You give him the benefit of a doubt." Deckerd thought about this. Maybe he needed to let go of some of his resentment of Gunmax's initial treatment of Yuuta and offer the biker a bit of that as well.

Shadowmaru looked up. "You gave that to me."

That had not been the response Deckerd was expecting. He really should stop being surprised by that sort of thing by now, but he always seemed to be lulled into this sense of security whenever he was talking with Shadowmaru. "That was different," the blue mech argued as old memories whispered through his mind. "You never compromised the team."

"I wasn't on the team. Gunmax proved himself in the Hourglass; he understands how a team works. He simply chooses not to acknowledge it. Therein lies your problem. Or his..." Shadowmaru _hmm_'d. "Looks like both of you have a problem."

Deckerd grunted. "I don't find this very funny."

"It's not. But if you both acknowledge there's an issue then maybe you can both find a solution."

"I can't help someone who won't even stay in the same room with me for more than five minutes," Deckerd grumbled. He'd timed it: _five _minutes. And ten, once. Fifteen had been a pretty good record...

"Then make him stay."

Why did Shadowmaru have to make this sound so effortless – like this was one of their typical cases? "It's not that easy," Deckerd replied even as his A.I. pulsed under the strain of wrestling with this concept.

"Why not?" Shadowmaru shrugged. "Handcuff him if you have to."

"I – what?"

"Do what's necessary to confront the issue. Eluding it hasn't served either of you so far, and the rest of the team suffers."

"But... _handcuffs_?"

"If he wants to act like a delinquent then treat him like one." Shadowmaru held up a finger and wiggled it in front of Deckerd's shell-shocked face. "Isn't that what you threatened to do to me?"

"That was... that was different!"

"You _shot _at me."

Okay, yeah. Deckerd kind of had. He'd also threatened to arrest him and would have done so if he'd been able to catch him and... _Hm_. Maybe the Brave Detective had what it took to handcuff an unruly subordinate after all. He rolled the idea over in his head then felt his lips thin. "I'd rather it not come to that."

"I'm sure Gunmax would as well. It's your decision, Master Dekkado."

"If I knew how to approach him this would be a lot easier."

"Wait for an opening." Shadowmaru's expression lightened. "Take the upcoming announcement from the Commissioner, for instance."

"Which you're still not going to tell me about."

"Nope."

It'd been worth a shot. "What makes you think that would be a good time?" the blue mech asked.

"The Commissioner's meetings are usually a good time for bonding."

"I thought they were a good time for something crazy."

"Same thing."

Deckerd laughed. It wasn't a big, unruly laugh – he'd never been good at those – but even a light, even laugh was just what he needed to banish the tension that had crept into every strut of his frame. His optics brightened a few levels. "I'll take your word for it," he conceded, his voice still lilting.

Shadowmaru appeared pleased by his master's reaction. With a quiet shift of armor he came to a stand and held out his hand while bowing. "I have to side with Mini-Boss and McCrane on this one," he said. "I believe Mr. Motorcycle has a good heart, and it's also my belief that you'll like him once everything is said and done."

Deckerd took the offered hand and was pulled to his feet. "That's a bit optimistic..." he ventured.

"Oh, I don't know." Shadowmaru relinquished the hand and allowed himself a small smile. "Free-spirited fellows seem to be your type."

"My type?"

Shadowmaru pointed to the bowl in his hand. "You finished."

Deckerd's optics flickered at the sudden shift in topic but he looked down anyway. And there, to his amazement, sat the bowl – previously filled with katsudon – now empty in his hand. "I did," he observed, rather amazed. "I don't even remember eating it."

"You were going at it quite vigorously there for a bit."

Deckerd flustered. "I'm not even sure I tasted it."

Shadowmaru's hand lit on his back – just beside his back-mounted siren – in a friendly pat. "All the more reason to try it again."

"That's true." Eating hadn't been that bad. Odd, but not bad. Deckerd wasn't opposed to doing it again – and this time paying attention to _what _he was doing rather than what he happened to be talking about at the time. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more the idea grew on him.

The winged mech's chuckle was audible. "Let's make it a tradition, then. A bowl of soba, a bit of katsudon and a little conversation... what do you say?"

Deckerd beamed. "I would love that."

"Even with me for company?"

"I couldn't ask for better."

Shadowmaru's optics glowed. He then looked away and made an embarrassed sound. "Ah, you flatter me."

The two mechs then began the short trek up the incline that led to the span of highway overhead, where it would be easier for Deckerd to shift to his car mode with a bit of asphalt under his tires. Shadowmaru kept glancing over at him with a small, expectant smile, something that did not go unnoticed by Deckerd. The Brave Detective returned it once they'd reached the top.

"I think I'm ready now," Deckerd said, more to himself than anyone else.

They transformed, the sight of two off-color police cars melding into the nearest lane of traffic not an unusual sight on that side of the city (though the large bowls tucked in their back seats might be a little strange looking.) They then headed toward headquarters. Deckerd had a lot to think about on the way there and imagined he would for days to come, but the act of thinking no longer felt so overwhelming. Instead he only felt a deep and growing sense of conviction that there was something he needed to do and someone he needed to help, and that everyone was depending on him, and there were more than a few people whom he could no longer let down.

And then there was the faintest, stirring feeling – a feeling of hope – that maybe, just maybe he would one day be at a place where he could laugh about this entire conversation with Gunmax himself and enjoy a bowl of katsudon and not think anything of it at all.

The sun was beginning to set, but Deckerd felt like this case was just getting started.


End file.
